


baby, i can’t figure it out, your kisses taste like honey

by ascendingfromatoms



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Multi, kunimi has a crush on both oikawa and kageyama at the same time, not-so-accidental kissing, oikage are in a relationship already, very touch-starved kunimi akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26234959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascendingfromatoms/pseuds/ascendingfromatoms
Summary: Kunimi’s feelings get the best of him on the rainiest day of the year when he goes home with Tobio and his boyfriend.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Kunimi Akira, Kageyama Tobio/Kunimi Akira/Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, Kunimi Akira/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	baby, i can’t figure it out, your kisses taste like honey

Rainstorms are not the ideal conditions for skateboarding. Kunimi regrets not having checked the weather app twice before bursting out of the house with knotty-laced sneakers, a backwards cap and a cardigan, his only defenses against the natural elements. Halfway down another block, he only reaches the intersection between Downtown Road and East Avenue when the unassuming drizzle matures into a windy downpour.

His clothes are spotted with raindrops. In a brief moment of consideration, he kicks up his skateboard and quickly sprints to the nearest shelter. Kunimi slips into an open convenience store, toweling down his wet hair with his equally wet hands, and teasing out a wrinkle in his sleeve.

There is no music in the store, save for the constant buzz of fluorescent lights bulbs, which cast a bluish hue over the four corners of the shop. He feels like he is in a walk-in refrigerator. The attendant at the counter is obscured behind a gigantic newspaper, which muffles the lame greeting that lazily fell past her lips when he squeaks and shivers his way through the doorway. 

He wanders aimlessly down the snack aisle, which doesn't humor him for very long. Truly, he has no business here, and there is no use in pretending that he does. Kunimi sighs heavily before backpedaling to the front of the store.

He breezes by the register without much acknowledgement from the attendant on duty, and hunches down in the bay window to sift through the steady collection of missed messages on his phone. Time passed by astronomically slow.

A car horn blares, paired with a gruff—

“Hey, dumbass!”

Kunimi stares out into the storm and locks eyes with the idiot on the other side of the road—a really fuckin’ handsome, blue-eyed idiot. It takes all of his self-control not to stare when the passenger side window rolls all the way down to reveal a familiar taut expression and usual milk carton to accompany it. Without breaking eye contact, he slurps his drink contentedly.

It is Kageyama, and upon further scrutiny, it is also his stupid idiot boyfriend, Oikawa Tooru in the driver’s seat, pulling up to the curb smoothly. 

Kageyama’s white ankle-length converse sneakers are kicked up against the dash, with the laces looped once around and tied neatly against the back of his shoes. He has one hand on his drink, and the other knitted between his boyfriend’s fingers.

Oikawa talks over the downpour and simply gestures towards the backseat, “Wanna come with?”

 _This is definitely a bad idea_ , he thinks as his gaze flickers between Kageyama’s ever-permanent frown and the attractive face of the older boy. They wait for a response. “Sure,” Kunimi shrugs, without sparing another thought, letting his feet guide him towards the Toyota.

Oikawa is already pulling away before he can put his seatbelt on. Not that he really cares. Kageyama boredly taps through his collection of songs on his phone before plugging into the car radio, and letting the bassline of a modern rock song vibrate throughout the space. He isn't completely sure where they are going, as Oikawa made turns into an unfamiliar neighborhood in town.

They suddenly are at Oikawa’s house, and at the same time, not there at all. Throughout the ride, the older boy’s orchestrated glances in the rear-view mirror kept him tethered to the realm of the car, but his eyes kept suggesting that they were somewhere else far from the ever uncomfortable press of the seatbelt against his torso, and the flick of wipers against the rainstorm.

Oikawa pushes the door to the kitchen. Kageyama suggestively glances at him with unsaid words caught between his tongue and his teeth, the action negated by familiarity and lust. His feet graze against neatly-vacuumed hardwood floors with particular care. Oikawa turns on a light, which expels the shadows, but brings forth new perception to the kind of house that he lives in.

“It’s a split level,” the boy explains, not-so-secretly tucking a hand into the back pocket of Kageyama Tobio’s jeans. _Nothing he does is involuntary,_ Kunimi swallows. Oikawa notices this, and also the way the younger boy’s eyes trailed upwards as his hand ghosted the spineline of Kageyama’s back. “The living room is upstairs,” he nudges his head to a staircase that Kunimi failed to notice upon entering the house.

(He thinks these creaky stairs just might be his stairway to heaven).

The three of them settle into the upstairs space, with the rumble of the washing machine running in the background. It feels oddly domestic. Oikawa’s long limbs take up the entirety of the loveseat, with socked feet spilling into Kageyama’s lap, scrunched up at the knee. There isn't enough room for the three of them to fit, even if they tried, and Kunimi is relegated to a big pillow on the carpeted floor.

The elder hums, “This reminds me of a long time ago.”

Kunimi agrees, although his memory is unable to make the stretch to find concrete evidence. Something about the atmosphere feels reminiscent of an alternate universe, where he imagines standing in front of an old lover, begging for forgiveness. A daydream that he might have fancied in the past, one that he would advance further with new details every time that it resurfaced.

Like intimate touches to the inside skin of his wrist, or little tugs at the roots of his hair. He would progressively restructure and rebuild the scene every night, starting at the moment when his old lover said: “Kunimi, come on closer.”

There is a handー _his_ warm hand, that tugs him flush against the cotton fiber of the couch. Kunimi lets out a gasp of surprise, but the hand stays put, burning hot against his shoulder, fingers spread wide to anchor him in place. He’s not going anywhere.

Oikawa rubs his back. His hands dance against the back of his neck to the taut muscles in his shoulders. Kageyama is watching them cautiously with hooded eyes, but he proceeds to side-eye the television, absently picking at a string on his sweater. He's hiding the fact that he is, in fact, piqued at the exchange. The attention that he receives from the older boy is gratifying, _so gratifying_.

A puff of air ruffles the back of his neck. Kunimi doesn’t say anything, but Oikawa takes it as a _yes_ , and slots him in the gentle space between his knees. The daydream merges with reality, as he feels a featherlight pair of lips kiss the spot where his breath just lingered; like the sensitive chill of an antiseptic wipe against skin in a doctor's office, the moment before the needle plunges.

Oikawa pulls away with honeyed lips, glazing with a lick of passion. Kunimi sits pliant, shifting the angle of his face to the curve of his mouth. He let himself be kissed and touched and loved. _It should feel wrong._ his brain screamed as Oikawa’s lips crashed down on him again, on his neck, the side of his face, and the lobe of his ears. It’s everywhere but his mouth, but it still felt intimate. Until he planted a real kiss on his lips.

Kageyama sees everything, as it unfolds less than a foot away from him. _Does he think it’s wrong?_ A straight ripple passed through the calm of his ocean blue eyes.

“Tooru,” mumbles Kageyama, itching to get off the couch and away from his own boyfriend and their old schoolmate, but Oikawa locks in on him, with intense brown eyes and reaches over to kiss him, a smirk finding the stubborn corner of his mouth, “Don’t be jealous, I’ll take care of you too.”

_Stay._

Kageyama brushes his fingers against the spot where he was kissed, his cheeks heating up, in an endearing way. It’s practically an indirect kiss between himself and Kunimi. The static energy in the air multiplies tenfold, as Kunimi begins to process what just occurred. Oikawa moves back to him, mouth brushing against his dark hair.

“You know, there’s always been a little part of me that found you irresistible,” Oikawa murmurs, fingers curling around his shoulders. Kunimi shivers slightly at the contact, feeling his wildest teenage dreams burst into screaming colors, all at once. 

“Oh?”

His own breathy voice pervades him. Kunimi fights the desire to arch up and kiss Oikawa Tooru himself. Subconsciously, his head tilts backwards when the warmth of his hands disappears from their resting position on his shoulders.

Oikawa shakes his head, amusedly, “Join us on the couch.”

_Us._

As if he is extended an invitation, Kageyama snaps out of his stupor and stares fixedly at the spot where his leg sweeps against Kunimi’s thigh. He can't help but notice that they were wearing the same kind of mustard yellow, the sleeve of his own sweater blending in with the color of the other boy’s cardigan. The couch is most definitely not made for three people, he also notices, feeling Oikawa’s arm, back against the length of the loveseat.

Kageyama softly decides to intervene, for the sake of their own sanities, “What was that, right there?”

The question hung in the living room air. Kunimi is tight-lipped and quiet on the matter, but Oikawa proceeds, answering for him, “I think Kunimi has always wanted to do that. He’s been waiting for the chance.”

His boyfriend may be stupid, but he definitely isn't hard of hearing. Kageyama clears his throat, “I’m not too bothered, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

“Don’t act like I don’t know you, Tobio. You’re jealous, not of him, but of me,” Oikawa corrects pointedly. “You’ve been eying him quite a bit yourself.”

They stare at each other in the beat of silence that followed that statement, and Kageyama’s blue eyes are absolutely driving him right up the wall. His expression is curious, beyond the frown, which makes Kunimi even more intrigued by the strange duality of the boy. On the hottest day of summer, he could be driven mad by the heat into doing something he regrets, but the mere gravitational pull of Kageyama, himself, makes him reach out to hold his hand.

Kunimi shoots a quick glance at Oikawa, who seems to have left them alone in the moment together. Kageyama breathes, with every passing second, living the last moments of his life before he experienced the tender brush of Kunimi’s lips against his own—

It is soft. Kunimi moves him along, pulling at his wrist to get closer, and Kageyama’s eyes are blown wide, even though he feels as though his eyes should be closed to preserve the tingling sensation. Kunimi’s eyes are shut, mouth languidly kissing him, and his chin when he misses. In the midst of their exchange, Kunimi’s eyes flutter open, and he blushes when he realizes that Kageyama’s were open the whole time.

Oikawa is still there, so they don't go overboard.

Even after their lips separate, their hands still stay clasped together, wrested onto Kunimi’s lap, with Kageyama feeling comfortable enough to lean into him. In all honesty, Kunimi feels tired and content and slightly overwhelmed with the way that things turned out that afternoon. He moves his head onto Oikawa’s shoulder, and shuts his eyes, tired.

Oikawa looks at Kageyama briefly before offering to the boy, “You can sleep in my bed, it is the room closest to the bathroom, and I have some clothes you can borrow.”

“Maybe next time,” Kunimi yawns, falling asleep on the tight-ass cotton couch that definitely needed to be replaced if he was going to be coming back more often. When he seems like he is out like a light, Oikawa tenderly settles him onto a couch pillow, and places a warm blanket over him. Kageyama apologizes quietly before letting go of his hand, and moving to the laundry room to start folding the load.


End file.
